Once More This Road We Tread
by sleepy-orange
Summary: A sequel to Forget Me Not  And Remember Me Soon . How Merlin and Arthur cope the next time round with Merlin's amnesia.    Warnings: Reincarnation. Some swear words?


**Once More (This Road We Tread)**

It's almost as if that first time sets off something in Arthur because once again, it's him who remembers first.

He jolts awake after having fallen asleep on the sofa, a warm soft body curled under him, and Disney's _The Sword in the Stone_ playing on the telly. For a moment, he's lost in the crashing waves of memories trying to embed themselves into his brain, twelve lifetimes of having lived and loved trying to make themselves known and he feels like he's drowning.

It's too much, _too much -_ images of places that he doesn't even know the names of, much less been to, suddenly coming to life in his mind, the memory of them so fresh that he can almost feel the caress of the wind on his skin, smell the faint scent of horses and hear the bustle of the servants as they go about their duties.

And people, so many people that his mind tumbles over itself trying to catch them all, names and faces suddenly becoming familiar to him. He sees past lovers and friends, enemies that he has made again and again, a father that he never really knew (and the one lifetime that he did - he plucks out that strand of memory and places it carefully away), and -

- there.

_Merlin._

And isn't it just like Merlin that the image that Arthur has of him, is of that stupid grin of his: hanging blearily over his head as he wakes up from being knocked out yet again, flashed across a crowded room of people dancing as he tries to not fall asleep listening to some woman talking to him, slowly unfurling as a customer tells him a well-worn joke.

There's Merlin stumbling ungracefully against stone walls and gripping his arm tightly, wine taking away any semblance of balance that he might have, stupidly chanting _I'm drunk. Arthur, I'm drunk. Drunk, Arthur. Are you drunk, Arthur?_ while grinning and laughing at the world. And there's him again, a pleased grin on his face as he bests Arthur at fencing, and isn't that an experience that Arthur never ever wants to repeat even though it was hardly a fair fight what with Merlin having been brought up at court _(Rome? Were they in Rome?)_ and Arthur not having picked up a sword before. But Merlin had laughed and Arthur had pouted, complaining that_ he was just rusty, okay. _

Arthur flushes then, because the next image his brain has so helpfully provided him with is of Merlin, pale form bending upwards to curl around him, a slow lazy grin on his face as Arthur sucks open-mouthed kisses down his neck, hands wandering down his body, possessive and proprietary, and it doesn't matter which lifetime it is, which century, which year, because this is an image that runs through all of them, etched indelibly into his memory, and it is not something that Arthur should be thinking about at all, not when he's still lying on the sofa next to Samantha _(girlfriend, _his brain provides).

After the initial rush of memory, comes the decision to be made of what exactly he was going to do. He wants to go find Merlin, every instinct in him is telling him to run out right now and find him, find Merlin.

F_indMerlinfindMerlinfindMerlin_.

But Arthur remembers the last time, remembers days of sitting at a lonely booth eating soggy waffles and remembers long nights spent in front of his laptop searching for cures for amnesia, like it's a battle he can win if only he's prepared enough, because as his weapons master told him once, _an ill-prepared knight is a dead knight._

He remembers endless days of just watching from afar, a bone-deep ache settling in him at not being able to touch, smell, taste and rare nights when he gets to have his fill of Merlin, and even though it's not quite the same, not when Merlin still can't remember him, it will have to be enough for now. He remembers missed chances, an entire lifetime giving way to dreary days and blank nights, something that should have been beautiful and wonderful dying before it even had the chance to bloom.

And he doesn't think that he can do it again.

_One lifetime was hard enough_, he thinks, and with the weary sigh of someone who has seen too much, loved too hard and fell too far, of someone who thinks _that's it_ and _I can't do this anymore_, he settles himself back on the sofa and tries to go back to sleep.

* * *

But while Arthur may have decided to stop playing the game Destiny has set out for him, there are two players to every game, two actors to every scene, and that is the very night that Merlin dreams.

_They're in Merlin's apartment (it's always his apartment), stretched out on the bed, bodies facing each other, fingers entangled together and breaths intermingling as they try to stay awake. It's late, night having fallen hours ago and dawn fast approaching, and while they're both exhausted down to the bone, the day having taken __its toll on them, they're not ready to relinquish their hold on this day. _

"You can't keep doing this, Arthur."

"Doing what? Eating waffles?"

_Merlin glares at him then, annoyed at Arthur for being so purposely obtuse, for dancing around the issue when he knows exactly what he is talking about. But he doesn't, because Arthur, his dear Arthur, is scared, scared and sad, and Merlin's the one who has put those lines on his face, who has caused those blue eyes to look so haunted and lost, and he isn't sure he's doing the right thing here, isn't sure if he even wants to be doing this, but he has to try. _

"Coming to the diner, seeing me, eating those damn waffles every day. They're going to give you diabetes, one day."

"But waffles are delicious, Merlin! They are yummy and delicious, and what else am I going to order at that diner of yours if I'm not allowed waffles?"

_Arthur's voice shakes, shakes as he tries determinedly to keep the conversation light and fun, and it takes all of Merlin's strength to keep his arms where they are, because they ache to be wrapped around Arthur, to shield him from the burdens he's carrying and protect him from the hurt that he's feeling. He wants to smooth the panic from Arthur's face, wants to soothe away the fear, wants to cup his face and kiss his lips and promise that he's never going anywhere. _

_But he doesn't want to lie. _

"I want you to stop coming, okay? Don't come to the diner anymore."

"And where else am I supposed to go, Merlin? Where else am I supposed to go for my breakfast?"

_Merlin hears the desperation in Arthur's voice, the unspoken question of __where _else is he supposed to be if not by Merlin's side?

_He's having a good day today, a day when the magic in him triumphs science and he can remember that he is Merlin, powerful warlock and trusted advisor,_ or just plain Merlin the idiot, then_,_ _Arthur teases, and not Merlin, a man who has lost nearly a decade of his life to a stupid accident and can't even remember the love of his lives. _

_He hates these days, hates them from giving him glimpses into the life__ he could have had with Arthur and Will and Gwen and Gaius by his side, hates them for the false optimism that they give Arthur, and hates them for not lasting longer. _

_He only ever has a few hours, a few hours to live as much as he can, asking Gaius about everything that has happened, ignoring the gentle touches to his arm as he's told how far behind the world has left him as if he's going to run screaming in shock at how things have changed__: laughing with Gwen and Will as he catches up with their lives, forcing himself to not see the tears in Gwen's eyes as she tells him she's married, to not miss the moments that he has lived but doesn't remember, and kissing Arthur, kissing him till their lips are red and swollen, and they're both feeling so raw, as if they've been scrubbed down to the bone and all that's left is their desperate need to feel each other again. _

"Live, for me, Arthur. Live your life, get married, have kids, just live."

"Merlin, no."

_Arthur is crying now, not even trying to hide his tears anymore, and Merlin hates himself for making this man, the greatest king the world has ever seen, and the best man that he has ever known, cry. __But he knows that he'll hate himself more for letting Arthur live this charade of a life, for knowing about it and not try to convince Arthur to be more, to let go of him and live in the now. Because all Merlin can do, is live in the then. All he remembers are instances from years ago, his mind stuck on loop over and over again, and he doesn't want Arthur to be stuck with him. Arthur is bright and beautiful and wonderful, and he belongs to the future. _

"We'll always have today. And I'll remember you. I'll wake up one day and remember you, and I'll be sad for a while, cos it's always sad without you, Arthur, but we'll always have today, yeah?"

_His voice is getting slurred, sleep finally catching up with him, and his eyes are getting heavy. Merlin knows that he'll wake up tomorrow with no memory of today, no recollection of this conversation he's had with Arthur, and while he'll never be totally happy, he's at least a little at peace, because he's tried. He's done the right thing, the expected thing, he's told Arthur to move on with his life__ and forget him. _

_And if he hears the soft whispered_ No _right before he falls asleep, if he feels his fingers clutched a little tighter, if he knows that Arthur will still be at the diner tomorrow morning, ready to order his waffles and coffee, then that's because Arthur is an arrogant prat who never listens to anyone, and not because Merlin didn't try. _

_

* * *

_

Arthur lasts all of two months, because of course just as he remembers, just as he resigns himself to not looking for Merlin, he sees him everywhere.

At first, it's just the glimpse of a dark mop of head darting round the corner as he leaves his lecture, discussing the latest assignment with Lance - and oh, it was good to have him back.

It's almost too fast for him, and for a while Arthur is sure that it was just his imagination, just something left over from his memories coming back to him. But then it happens again, and this time Arthur sees the lean body that accompanies the hair, and knows, just _knows_, that it is Merlin, that of all the places for him to be, of course, he's in the same uni as Arthur, and of course, they've run into each other before and just not known.

It's another few days before he sees Merlin's face, runs smack into him in the cafe because he was too absorbed in texting to Samantha _(We need to talk. Urgent. Call me.)_ to watch where he was going, and it feels like a physical blow to his gut when he looks right up into _familiar_ bright blue eyes. They stand there, mutely staring at each other, oblivious to the disgruntled voices around them as people shuffled around them.

Arthur panics, panics because _it's Merlin. Merlin's right here. Here, _and he doesn't think he's ready for this, doesn't think he can take having Merlin look at him like a stranger again. His head drops, and he mumbles out an apology, using the crowd of people around him as an excuse to step away, and misses the spark of recognition in Merlin's eyes.

He breaks up with Samantha that night.

* * *

It takes a while for things to work out and Merlin can hear his mother scold him to _be patient, sweetheart. _

But he doesn't want to wait, because ever since that night he dreamt, ever since he remembered again, all he can think about is Arthur. He's missed Arthur before, sure, has spent years before looking for him, but this feels different. There's a hunger in him, a deep hunger, and he feels like he has not had Arthur for so very long, long enough that he can't actually remember when was the last time he held him.

And Arthur is being particularly difficult this time around. It would almost be ridiculous how well he manages to evade Merlin, if not for the vise grip around his heart tightening just that little bit more every time Arthur sees him and runs away.

What Arthur's problem is, he does not know, because Merlin is pretty sure that Arthur remembers too, remembers him and _them_, but Merlin is not going to let him get away with it, so he follows Arthur around. He befriends Lance, gets to know Arthur's class schedule, and for want of a better term, stalks him.

Arthur has always been a little stubborn, and it takes a special skill set to get through to him, and hey, isn't it just lucky that Merlin possess that skill set?

Like he said, it took a while, but Merlin is very good at being persistent, and slowly, things do work out. Arthur finally acknowledges him, his smile wobbly and eyes uncertain as he shakes Merlin's hand. It took a few more days of Merlin slowly, almost shyly _(and good god, when was the last time they had been shy with each other?)_ flirting with him before Arthur agreed to go out for a coffee with him, and by the time they go out for a proper date and Merlin finds himself back at Arthur's apartment, he's slammed Arthur against the door, hissing at him to _get with the program, already_.

And it's great. It really is; the hunger in him is finally ebbing, and he's not so desperate for Arthur anymore. They're back to their usual bickering ways, and it almost feels like how it's supposed to be.

Almost.

Because Merlin can see the looks that Arthur sends him when he thinks he isn't looking, can see the relief in his eyes every morning when Merlin rolls over, mumbling _what, Arthur? It's too early, go back to sleep_.

He sees the way Arthur tenses every time they're crossing the road, how he grips Merlin's wrist a little too tightly, like he's a child that has to be kept close so that he doesn't wander off, and how he never _ever_ lets Merlin drive. The one time Merlin had driven over to Arthur's place, excited and a little horny because he's always wanted to try car sex, Arthur had paled, the blood draining from his face, and without saying a word, had gone back into his flat and locked himself in the bathroom. He'd heard Arthur retching from behind the closed door, and when he'd come out, all he'd asked, was_ could we stay in, tonight? Just you and me. Let's stay in_, his voice trembling and a little desperate.

And he knows that it has something to do with him, something with their previous life, maybe? Because all Merlin can remember of it is the dream he had that first night, everything else a total blank, and every time he asks Arthur what happened to them, their past selves, all he'd get was a_ they were happy._ It's a lie, Merlin knows it's a lie, remembers how so sad he was in the dream, a bone-tired resigned sort of unhappiness that seeps in and never quite lets go, and he remembers how tired Arthur had looked, weary and age-worn. So he knows that they weren't happy, that they were possibly never happy and it scares him that that unhappiness is seeping into their lives now.

But he's not going to let something that he can't even remember destroy them now, not when he's finally happy, and Arthur is finally starting to look like a normal twenty-one year old and not someone with too many secrets, and Merlin can be stubborn too, did you not know?

So every time he asks Arthur what's wrong, and every time Arthur tries to wave him off, tries to distract him with sex, or tries to feed him a cleaned-up version of the truth, because even after a lifetime, the wound is still too fresh, scab too raw, and Arthur is _just_ not ready to remember yet, Merlin will simply wait a while and then come back again at him, because there is something different about this Arthur, he's come back a little bit _wrong_, and Merlin just wants his Arthur back.

This Arthur is too polite, too nice, too clean and careful, and Merlin is beyond frustrated with him, wants to shake him till he spits it out, bang his head till the truth falls out his ear, and cut a little line on his wrist to show him that _yes, I may bleed, but I'm still alive, Arthur!_

And Merlin will be patient. He will be patient, because his mother had also told him that _good things comes to those who wait, love_, and he does, he does love this wounded, scared Arthur, and he'll love him till he gets his arrogant prince again.

* * *

Then one day, when they're watching _The Notebook_ because it's been a lovely rainy day that is just perfect for cuddling on the sofa and watching soppy romantic movies, Merlin will turn to Arthur and see him crying, silent tracks of tears running down his cheeks till they turn into deep wrenching sobs, his whole body shaking with force of them.

And Merlin will wrap his arms around him, kiss his forehead softly, almost reverently because his Arthur hurts, deep in his heart and his gut, his Arthur hurts, and then, maybe then, in the silent hush of their flat and safe within Merlin's strong embrace, Arthur will tell him.


End file.
